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I haven’t updated my blog for most of the summer. Sometimes life just carries you to places you didn’t expect. It’s been one of those types of summers. I purchased my Early Bird Folk Festival tickets months in advance of the event. It was probably a good thing because otherwise, I wouldn’t have treated myself with so much going on at the home front. In the end, I attended the entire weekend, with the support of my family and with coverage for dog walking and other responsibilities. Max is always a factor in my planning.

It was July 27. It was my mother’s birthday. I remember taking my mother down to the the island, many years ago. We sat on a bench and shared an ice cream cone. I thought a lot about Mom that evening. I ended up closer to the entrance than any previous Thursday night and had some lovely conversation with my line mates as we waited for gates to open. I chatted with a family group and also met a gentleman who is married to a lady from Souris, PEI, so we had some time to chat about the Cheveries, as she has her family of origin in that line.

Oh, yeah…and I found this guy, in line. (and yes…we need to get the programs in place NOW, in regards to homeless Veterans. I’m with you on that, readers.)

My first and most favourite food of the weekend…a Mediterranean plate, paired with an ice cold lemonade. Thursday evening entailed no fly sheets, a simple cozy blanket for sitting.

Thursday night saw me plunking my butt down at the Main Stage the entire time. I ended up very close to the music. I felt breath and peace and music sink into me, as for the first time, this summer, I truly relaxed. My favourite discovery was the 5:30 performance by Dawes! Why haven’t I heard Dawes before? What???

Immediately, the song writing touched me and I related to the music at a heart level. I’m going to post, not one, but two videos, here.

A highlight for me was musician, Duane Betts, son of Dickey Betts, who joins Dawes with their touring band. Mouth dropping guitar interludes absolutely blew me away! A great experience in music!

Choir! Choir! Choir! was entertaining at 6:45, but honestly, Calgary, I would have liked to see more participation. This makes me laugh, as I see the teacher-heart spring up. We did a poor version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. It sounded nothing like the version I’ve posted, here. I did move right up to the front and gave it my best effort, as you can all imagine. We didn’t have Rufus Wainwright with us, but you get the idea.

Up next was Coeur de pirate. She has the pipes! I was watching her perform through the eyes of my friend, Denise and I thought a lot about our friendship throughout the performance. A beautiful and animated performer, she blew us all away. It was at this point that I connected with friend, Jane, who happened to be hanging with all three of her kids and families. I feel so blessed to have joined them on their tarp for this set.

Billy Bragg and Joe Henry performed next. It was difficult to separate the opinions of others regarding Billy Bragg and my experience of this music. He is looked at like authentic ranchers would view a Rhinestone Cowboy…a bit of a star who doesn’t suffer the actual realities of hard working people. However, I have to tell you, I was really impressed by the music. I am nostalgic when I think of trains and this was the general drift of this set. Joe Henry and Billy Bragg have been collaborators on a project that, I think, archives a history of music as it relates to the American Train. I guess one would argue that this is an appropriation, of sorts. I say this, simply, because its a subject that comes up a lot.

I enjoyed my first night of music listening minus some parking shenanigans….so began folk festival 2017.

However, interspersed with hard work, vigilance and what life brings were some idyllic times shared with people I love and I need to acknowledge that as the season, very gently, moves into autumn. Like others, I’ve noticed the brilliant yellow leaves of the poplars appear. Yesterday, I saw a mama American Coot slam-dunk her teenager, stopping its whining in a quick moment, shoving its head and body, deep into the water. I could almost hear her shouting, “Get your own damned food!” With me, it always comes down to what’s happening to the birds. To summarize, everything is in flux at the pond and there are indicators, as Cormorant teenagers practice their flights over the water and Grebe babies are taught to vocalize, that, all is about to change.

I always hear from Hollee, mostly through the format of the post card. My spirit sings when I get ‘real’ mail at the post box. She does this despite being a very busy lady, given her role and the necessary travel that comes with being the National Coordinator at L’Arche Canada. (but this, in fact, makes for a very interesting post card collection!)

For a glorious week, I had the chance to share daytime events with Hollee. When visitors come to Calgary, I always begin by taking them to the Leighton Center. I enjoy the views so much, the short walks…the art…the chat along the scenic drive. So, on Monday morning, a day that is closed to the public, Hollee and I headed west for the Center.

First, Hollee humoured me with a walk around the pond at Frank’s Flats. I can’t believe I didn’t catch a photograph! However, I DID pull off the road and snap a quick photograph of Hollee at spot where I remembered taking a photo of my sister, Valerie, years ago!

In the Leighton House, a couple of lovely exhibits, one Impressions: A Printmaking Exhibit and a Wildrose exhibit in the upstairs gallery. We were impressed by the exquisite modelling evidenced in a couple of pieces done in pencil crayon.

The haze from the fires in British Columbia was in evidence, everywhere we drove, that day.We took a country-road drive and also, made a stop at The Blue Rock Gallery, a space I have never visited in Black Diamond. I was so happy to finally see the works, in the flesh, by Vermilion artist, Justina Smith, an artist I follow on Instagram. I first became interested in her work when I saw her published journals as she took a drive across Canada and captured landscapes that were very familiar to me.Of course, Hollee and I stopped for an ice cream cone at the corner store!

Nativity Scene 2016 Installation piece by Kent Monkman. Photographs of Kent’s paintings do no justice to them, but I wanted to carry a little archive with me, for the purpose of memory.

Baby Carriers…one small section of a very powerful space, created by Kent Monkman.

The Scream 2017 Kent Monkman a painting depicting children being rounded up from homes and families. This huge painting was straddled by two of the Cradle walls.

A detail from Iron Horse 2015 by Kent Monkman.

The Bears of Confederation: 2016 Kent Monkman

Banquet Table installation

At some point, Hollee and I enjoyed a Spolumbo’s lunch and a quick visit to the Esker Foundation. As well, and without photographs, we had a tour of the Calgary Reads house in Inglewood. Such a generous walk through one of the most magical houses in Inglewood. I really hoped to knock into Ben while there, but he was out working hard with Nourish.

Wednesday found me taking a rest…I think, or maybe we did a little bit of something in the afternoon. I don’t remember. It’s all a blur. And this makes me smile. I know that some where along the line, I convinced Hollee that we should go to the movie, Wonder Woman, as recommended by my daughter. So, we did that, also….free movie and food, using our Scene cards and coupons! I felt a little overwhelmed by the action scenes and the huge explosions. We left the movie, sort of laughing and trying to guess Cayley’s thoughts on the movie.

Oh! Yes! I almost forgot that we did our epic tour of the Calgary Zoo, taking in all of the active feeding and animated goings-on of our favourite animals. Like anyone else, I’m in awe of the experience of getting up close to animals and I DO think that the Calgary Zoo does what it can to make the enclosures interesting for the animals. However, I can’t say that I am a supporter of keeping animals locked up and out of their natural environments. I guess, on this particular day, I just entered into the experience at a different level. I think, for Hollee and I, both, it brought back childhood memories…years when great big Dino stood in the center of a huge grassy parkland. I remember visiting with my Gramma Moors when I was a child. Oh, how things have changed since then. Of the hundreds of photos I took of Penguins, nothing really turned out. I’m grateful that Hollee agreed to do the Canadian enclosures with me. The day after this, I was actually very weary!

Our last day of driving Alberta, saw us at Frank Slide. We listened to music while I drove and that was fun! As I put on miles, I enjoyed a lot of memories…past drives and different company…nostalgia about my parents and other friends. It was lovely and atmospheric. The smoke haze over everything this summer, changes the landscape dramatically.

I had never enjoyed the tours at Frank’s Slide before. We happened to tag on to one of these outdoors, some time after enjoying a little picnic of salad and fresh fruit. We stopped off at Lundbreck Falls, on the way home.

I can’t really explain what it meant to me to be able to be with a friend for travel and visiting and relaxing. I spend so much of my time, exploring, on my own, that it was a very different experience. I was sad to see Hollee leave, but with the full knowledge that there will be other times. I am just so grateful.

All the diamonds in this world
That mean anything to me
Are conjured up by wind and sunlight
Sparkling on the sea

I ran aground in a harbour town
Lost the taste for being free
Thank God He sent some gull-chased ship
To carry me to sea

Two thousand years and half a world away
Dying trees still grow greener when you pray

Silver scales flash bright and fade
In reeds along the shore
Like a pearl in sea of liquid jade
His ship comes shining
Like a crystal swan in a sky of suns
His ship comes shining

Like this:

Ascension Sunday was beautiful in so many ways. Bishop Emeritus Frederick Henry was with us for the celebration of the Mass. As much as being a part of this family has, at times, been a struggle, it feels as though I am home with my community when I share in the Mass with so many friends. Sometimes in today’s world, we can be very MEcentric and I find that I am able to quiet that and really focus on ‘the other’ when I am in community. I sometimes wonder how the human family will look back on the world that we are creating and what our part in history will be. I lifted prayers and offered up this Mass, in particular, for people in my life who have medical struggles and for my children. From Mass, I stepped out into a gorgeous-weather day and decided to make my circle of the pond, with Max before anything else.

I booked up the afternoon with a create! workshop at Wendy’s…a session co-delivered with Ruth Purves Smith, needle felting and wet felting, forgetting that I was also committed to attending Indigenous dance led by Jess McMann. Sigh… I opted to head out to Lakeview, as I knew I planned to visit my YaYa at the Foothills Hospital afterwards.

The afternoon was glorious, back yard crafting with beautiful and engaged creatives. The birds were chirping and singing and bathing, all the while. Ginger snaps and ice cold lemonade were served as we went about learning to make dryer balls, wet felting and creating lovely artworks. A great way to spend the afternoon! Thank you, Wendy and Ruth.

Not only is Ruth a huge advocate for the Custom Woolen Mills, she is a heart-filled musician and huge song writer and story teller! I hang out with amazing people!

In conclusion, kits were put together and I was eager to get over to the hospital and my friend, to see if she would be able to try felting.

It was a joy to watch my YaYa, sit outdoors in the shade of Foothills Hospital and manage some felting. I will bring the project that she began along with me on my next visit and bit by bit, she can construct something beautiful. Best she not poke her finger with one of those needles! The day was so much brighter because I was able to hang out with her and to see the progress she has made in her healing. Four months later, she is a strong and inspiring fighter! Her husband is equally inspiring because he has been selfless and supportive through this very unique journey. They are, together, an inspiring couple.

I spent the evening on my own…a little putzing in the garden…some more walking with Max…some texting with my daughter who had entered a song-writers competition. She got to chat it up with one of my favourite Alberta song writers, Joe Nolan, and so I will aptly conclude this post with one of his tunes.

The day was a ‘Ballad of Some Sort”. (Changed my mind…but, YouTube it!) Instead, River Ends. Both Ruth and Joe deliver music in wool socks. I think song-writers who perform in sock feet are generally good people.

Thanks, Wendy Lees, for being a beautiful person! Thanks to you, Ruth…for sharing the joy of creation with me, again. Such warmth and generosity!

I took liberties, borrowing this title…Grateful Dead’s title for a tune on their album, American Beauty. My brother was listening to Grateful Dead and Gregg Allman (RIP), when I was listening to Three Dog Night and Gordan Lightfoot.

Over the years, I’ve kept some excessively sentimental journal entries, scattered, some in notebooks and some typed up. I’ve belonged to Brat Newsgroups and followed writing by other children of military fathers. An excellent novel is based on a very similar life experience during the Cold War: Anne-Marie Macdonald’s Where the Crow Flies.

As Father’s Day approaches and I’m thinking a lot about Dad and my family, but especially Dad, I’m putting together a bit of a reflection. I am proud of my Dad. I’m also pleased, in looking back, that I lived what I imagine is an unusual life, with very unique experiences. As you dwell a bit on your father, you will think the same. I’ve snapped some photos of bits and pieces and put them in chronological order here. The writing is sappy and poorly executed for the most part, but, I’m glad that I’ve documented some things.

Sherbrooke, Quebec and my parents met and fell in love. My parents knew and loved the Fortier family. We made trips to visit my Gramma and Grampa once we moved away. I remember my Grandmother’s home and her gardens.

My brother, John, was born.

John, Dad and Winston, the dog. This is either Sherbrooke or Falconbridge; I’m not certain.

Falconbridge, Ontario (Sudbury)

And a year later, I was born.

RCAF Falconbridge Circa 50s

RCAF Falconbridge

Ste. Sylvestre, Quebec…50 miles from Quebec City. Brutal winters with banks of snow up to the tops of our windows. The birth of my brother, Stuart. Playing in a creek bed some distance from the house. Back yard clotheslines. Mom, alone, a lot. I watched my mother sew the dress that she is wearing in the photograph below. I remember it.

RCAF Ste. Sylvestre

RCAF Ste. Sylvestre

Ste. Margaret’s, New Brunswick...some miles from Chatham.

I guess we didn’t have a camera to snap photographs in Ste. Margaret’s in New Brunswick. I haven’t any archive for this period, apart from a few bits of ephemera. An old fashioned bell rung outside of the school for my kindergarten and grade one year. I remember my coat hook. I remember faking that I could play the notes on my recorder. I remember secretly loving Holmer Berthiaume. I remember clam digging and clam chowder. I remember neighbourhood fun. And, my brother, Cliff, was born. I broke my collar bone.

A neighbour-photographer asked my parents if he could grab some photos of me. This is one.

North Bay, Ontario…three different postings and some very special years. The dock, Chief Commanda, Expo ’67 and a field trip to Montreal, Winter Carnivals, fishing…

Trout Lake, Cabin stays and learning to play Cribbage, Mr. Carlin and the first inkling that I loved art, hiking through the gully, Gus.

Gus and the Rambler Station Wagon.

My sister, Val, was born.

Tent Caterpillars

Air Shows

My brother, Cliff (Hammer), at one of our annual air shows.

Teen Town

I have reconnected with many of the people in this photograph over the years. Social Media has been a blessing for Military ‘Brats’.

On I went, during our second posting, to Widdifield High School, grade nine. My friends were lunch time friends, including Kathleen and Susan. Debbie Harris took the bus with me to Hornell Heights. We were walking-to-school friends. I have since, lost her. Later in life, I painted Miss Mitchell, the librarian, and the Library Club, using a photograph in the 1969 Pendulum as a reference.

I treasured, most, my time in the art room. I still have some of my sketches from that time. I reconnected with David Carlin some years ago as he had an exhibit in Callandar when I was on one of my Trans Canada migrations.

Great Falls, Montana for Grade 10, 11 and 12. Ramona and I have done well to stay in touch all of these years.

Livin’ it up on Fox Farm Road!

My best friend, CMR, Ramona

The thing about military people is that they DO have attached to them, many group photographs and records. I will spare you this collection, but for the sake of my family members, I have photographed Dad’s collection and accessed several that he did not have from on-line research. If ever you want these, please be in touch.

Through the kind invitation of a dear friend, I ended up at the Calgary Catholic Retired Teachers Spring Luncheon at the Calgary Elk’s Club the day following my birthday. Thank you to Ruth, Pat and Emelia for the gracious planning. I felt so blessed by the renewed connections and the warm embrace of the educators in my circle. It was an absolutely magical afternoon.

Sitting on my right, was Joan. In 1979, weeks after the birth of my first child, I took a bus from Lethbridge to Calgary, to interview with this person. Little did I know, at that time, what a powerful inspiration Joan would become, in my teaching, but also in my way of seeing life and the world…visually…but, in so many other ways.

Last Tuesday…she gave me something more to think about….IS-NESS…the experience of being completely present in this moment. It’s common to talk about the optimal state of ‘being’, living for this moment only. There are many ‘gurus’ among us. “There is no past. There can be no future. There is only ‘now’.” These run the risk of becoming mere platitudes. I think we all know what’s really going on…and it’s what the world is telling us is important, not what we know to be important. (sorry to be speaking for all of us here…maybe I’m wrong)

During my life, I’ve driven forward more than anything. In youth, I thought that I needed more. I set huge goals for myself. The wheels were in spin and forward I drove! (when I type the word, DROVE, an image comes up for me…a huge wind pressing at my face and the full weight of my body pushing against it). I dedicated myself to the work of that…the industry of that. I taught full days, but didn’t wind down, painting well into the night and rising early in the morning. I tasted what the FUTURE might be, but never really grasped it.

At some point, I opened the door, and rolled out of the speeding vehicle that was the life I had created and landed safely beside the freeway traveled by all of those around me. For the first time, I noticed what ‘other people’ were doing while I was painting, teaching and raising three children. I looked at my life through the rear view mirror and came to a lurching halt. I saw, for the first time, what it meant to stop….not to slow down, but to stop.

I am not writing this post, in judgement of my choices in youth. If one looks at the accomplishments of ‘the greats’, one knows that their achievements came to be through commitment, dedication and mostly, sacrifice. It is no wonder that I spent most of my life seeking success, recognition, accomplishment, production, money. These are the false promises of the human construct.

I am listening to Chris Cornell’s album, Higher Truth, as I type. I just listened with a new ear to the song, Dead Wishes. While it is not for me to question why, at the age of 52, he took his life, it is for me to explore what it is in this human heart…every heart…that aches, struggles and seeks to be MORE.

One blessing of my life was to sit down with my children and gather for Sunday dinner; another, to seek to communicate and connect. I was rich for the opportunity to see, write, learn and experience art, music and performance…for the opportunity to be still with nature, make observations through all of my senses. Joy came with walking my dogs, Max-man and Laurie-dog before him. It came with sitting in the church when it was quiet. Gratitude came with writing a poem. Magic was to hold my mother’s hand when she slept, warm under her blankets, her Buddy-dog curled into the circle of her back. Freedom was and continues to be to turn on my favourite music and to paint in my studio, in the same way that the other might dance, with no one watching…for me alone. IS-NESS….articulated by a dear friend.

(of course, I came home and looked through my documentation of years gone by…the photographs, mere snapshots of times shared…so much wisdom and joy contained in the flashes of light)

I was hired on with Calgary Catholic School District #1 in 1979. My experiences for the following nine years at Holy Cross Elementary/Junior High were life changing. This is where I learned the value of the person, above program. To nurture a love for reading, learning, creating and self ultimately leads to enthusiasm for content, practice and consistent attendance. I was blessed when opportunities in my career, led to both St. John Fine Art’s School and the Fine Art’s Center (in two different locations). There, I met some of the most amazing people…educators who fearlessly impacted the district with the truth of the matter…and that is that experiences of art, music, drama and dance teach the brain in new ways, enhance all learning and create well-rounded human beings, prepared for a world that requires problem solving and new ways of seeing! I went on to take everything I had learned to that point and participated in the opening of Cardinal Newman, a school in the deep south. There, I continued to work as an advocate for the fine arts and to dream that they would be honoured within the curriculum.

In the following photographs, I’ve captured just a very small sampling of those educators, my mentors and friends. As Alberta is deliberating about and writing new curricula, I’m pleased to recall that I participated in the implementation of the art and drama curricula all those years ago. It was wonderful to meet up again, with friends, and to share some stories…to speak of life and art and books and Is-ness. Thank you.

Words spill out. I use the word beautiful a lot! I mention, too often, how grateful I am or how blessed I feel. Writing helps me to take pause, to slow down and to take real measure of how truly fortunate I am. I seem to be a more positive person when I write. However, in that part of life away from the keyboard, I can become anxious, worrying and temperamental. I thought about this last evening, after an experience of improvisational jazz music that was both rich and compelling. I’ll make a connection between words and jazz in a moment. Readers, bear with me.

I always think of Wendy as a connector, but more than that, a dear friend. Out of the blue, she invited me to join her for an early evening of improvised jazz. The musicians, percussionist Robin Tufts and trumpet player, Andre Wickenheiser, created such magic in musical dialogue, that tonight, even as I write, I get chills.

We entered through the front doorway of the ‘yellow house’ and stepped into the warm light of new friendship. Everywhere, interesting objects told stories of inspiration and the arts. Wonderful aromas wafted from the kitchen. Introductions were made and Pat steered us toward the two pots of stock heating on the stove top. Hanna turned meatballs in the fry pan. I began chopping up beets on a wooden cutting board and the conversations seamlessly wove over and under and through the lovely gathering. The only time the words stopped, was at the invitation to gather for the music.

Words stopped.

Taken from page 107

The Power of Silence: Silent Communication in Daily Life By Colum Kenny

What was about to take place was the ‘touching of a mystery’…a silencing of words.

Andre and Robin took their seats before us and Robin invoked a minute of silence. It was heart breaking, the silence was so beautiful. And…out of that silence was born the most remarkable improvised jazz sound. I was transported or emptied or released…I haven’t decided which. I relaxed. Words left me. I didn’t ‘think’. It was a wonderful experience to focus on a weeping trumpet, a laughing trumpet…a percussive response; a light bell, wood, metal, skin….a cry, a gasp, a retort. So complex, and yet so immediate and natural.

I was a little disappointed when the music came to a peaceful close. Words, again, flowed throughout the room. Conversations. Reactions. Circular sifting through spaces, hot bowls of soup…bread…desserts. A glass of wine. It was a genuinely ‘magical’ experience.

Thank you to Pat, Robin and Andre. It was good to meet you; Hanna and Roberta, Jaqueline, Rayne, Claudia…

Wendy Lees is a vital leader in our visual arts community here in Calgary. She has spearheaded so many wonderful projects and visual arts tours, either through making, leading or inspiring. I’ve treasured her friendship for years now and I’m so grateful for our meeting. I was blessed, yesterday, to have the opportunity to learn the first basic baby steps to mosaic art, in the comfort and organized studio that is her own home. What a fun experience and what great people!

Wendy took on the magical practice of create! in the East Village some time ago…and through that program, I met some of the most authentic and beautiful people of a lifetime. Gladly, a few of them were able to attend the Mosaic 101 workshop, so renewing those relationships was an additional blessing!

If you have opportunity to participate in or attend any of the programs that Wendy advertises, DO! Such fun! It’s not just about techniques and skill development…it’s about community and connection!

It continues to be my goal to read the books of as many indigenous authors as possible this year…and to read content that will increase my knowledge, leading to better understanding of issues related to our Canadian indigenous peoples. I have a desire in my heart to be a part of the mechanism that contributes to change, following a formal Truth and Reconciliation process. The formal process is a mere stepping stone…the work, by all Canadians, is yet to be done.

I am grateful to have connected with author, Sable Sweetgrass, through an on line book club that Sable established and then on to a group book circle at the Forest Lawn Public Library once a month, with the gathering, Chapters and Chat, sponsored by the Aboriginal Pride and 12 Community Safety Initiative and led by Michelle Robinson. Books offer inroads to powerful ways of viewing the world and understanding, whether non fiction, fiction, theater or poetry. We owe it to ourselves to become educated.

This month’s read, Wenjack by Joseph Boyden, was selected as much for the weight of issues surrounding its author as for any other reason. We decided we really wanted to have an honest discussion about appropriation of content.

The aesthetic of the book is beautiful…lovely paper, interesting and welcoming format, gorgeous illustrations and attractive associations with the natural world. Based on the historical events of a young boy, Chanie who, in fact, was forced into a residential school system and as a result, died, the discussion about the issues surrounding the writing of the book became a many layered, and at times painful, conversation.

I love books and I love the act of reading and it is for me to be discerning around my selection. As a visual artist, I have had to consider ethical boundaries as I explore certain topics in my paintings and it is important that appropriation is considered as I set up these boundaries. While I am not fond of censorship, I do think, as artists, there is something refreshing about being true to our own stories. I found our shared discussion circle to be invaluable as it contributed to expanded knowledge, in a very thoughtful way.

Some weeks ago, artist, Kelsey Fraser, led a workshop at the Esker Foundation on collaborative art making in both drawing and painting. A key feature of the present exhibit, Earthlings, collaboration creates a wonderful bridge between northern and southern artistic culture.

By happenstance, the week prior to Kelsey’s workshop, I had explored collaboration with a high school learning strategies class. Often saddled with group projects, older students often struggle with their part of a piece of work (poster, presentation, power point, report) when they are assigned to work with a mixed group of individuals. I thought that it might be fun to explore a small non-threatening Exquisite Corpse activity in order to enjoy the experience of individual contributions for a common goal and completed work. To begin with, we looked at the process of collaboration.

I forgot to grab some photos of the resulting drawings. (may post later) I had the students complete the first section on a paper folded into three (a character’s head – fantastical to representational) and then walk to someone in the room that they might not know and to trust them with the second section (the torso) and then, finally, that person would get up and pass it on to a third person for completion (the legs). I enjoyed this exercise with a former student of mine, Tim Belliveau, when he led a session of life drawing at the Glenbow Museum. It is a great activity for warm up and for ice breaking. If you want to loosen up the crowd, this is a great method or if you have a fear of not ‘knowing’ how to draw, this activity removes that responsibility.

These were the three blind contours completed, where I was the subject. It was so good to meet up with Jocelyn again!

Next (and I’ll use this with a class some time or maybe during a pot luck party) we began a telephone game activity…page one write something, pass the booklet on…page two draw something related to page one’s writing….pass the booklet on…page three, write something related to the drawing on page two….pass the booklet on…page four, draw something related to the writing on page three….and so on through ten or so pages.

Finally, the participants visited four different tables, to hook up with pencil nicks left on the edges of previous artist’s compositions and to create their own line drawings in charcoal pencil. Esker, the paper was of beautiful quality….thank you! After drawing on three compositions, without looking at any of the other related drawings, we were asked to return to our original places, lay out the four compositions in sequence and to add paint. Both challenging and thought provoking. At this stage, the main goal would be to add harmony and unity to four somewhat disjointed pieces. The colour added a very exciting dimension.

Thanks to Kelsey Fraser and to Esker Foundation for a wonderful afternoon of exploring line, colour and collaboration!

While I don’t think my contributions made sense sometimes, or that I had anything ‘intelligent’ to say, I also really appreciated the conversation PLACEHOLDER: An Unconventional Book Club Discussion with d.talks. I was low on energy and very distracted and yet I had the true sense that the circle of people attending the event were listening. Watch for future programs/events on the Esker site.

Arthur’s remembrances of being a young boy, growing up with his mother near by, being taken from his family and educated in residence at Old Sun, is chilling. What his section of the book lacks in elegance, is so authentic that the reader can only feel helpless and sad. Arthur recalls the sights and sounds of family and home on Blackfoot Reserve # 146. His initial memories are very tactile in nature and it’s interesting how often he mentions the touch of his mother, throughout.

It is a very hopeless thing to read about a child who is overpowered by adults who are sick, perverse and controlling. It is made me so angry to read that dearest friends should silence one another in the dark of night, in order to avoid reprisal and further hurt.

The Afterward, written by Fritz Pannekoek is excellent because it puts into a very clear context, Arthur’s experience. It gives the reader a very strong foundation for understanding the journey of one man in the system of Residential Schools, but also, the frustrating process of revelation…of truth…of trauma…of financial settlement…and ongoing systematic abuse, whether that be physical or emotional.

I learned so much through this book and it causes me to hunger more for understanding of current issues around the Truth and Reconcilation process. This is a very fragile thing…and readers must understand that without the active engagement of all Canadians, the political process meant/means nothing. I invite readers to seek out information and to familiarize themselves to the various agendas that are out there.